ifton for flour and pork. One night Uncle Eb told me
if I would go out among men to try my hand at some sort of business he
would start me with a thousand dollars. Well, I did--it. I had also
a hundred dollars of my own. I came through the woods afoot. Bought
fashionable clothing at Utica, and came to the big city--you know the
rest. Among men my fear has left me, so I wonder at it. I am a debtor to
love--the love of Uncle Eb and that of a noble woman I shall soon marry.
It has made me whole and brought me back to my own people.

'And everybody knew he was innocent the day after he left,' said David.

'Three cheers for Uncle Eb!' I demanded.

And we gave them.

'I declare!' said he. 'In all my born days never see sech fun. It's
tree-menjious! I tell ye. Them 'et takes care uv others'll be took care
uv--'less they do it o'purpose.'

And when the rest of us had gone to bed Uncle Eb sat awhile by the fire
with David. Late at night he came upstairs with his candle. He came over
to my bed on tiptoe to see if I were awake, holding the candle above my
head. I was worn out and did not open my eyes. He sat down snickering.

'Tell ye one thing, Dave Brower,' he whispered to himself as he drew
off his boots, 'when some folks calls ye a fool 's a purty good sign ye
ain't.'

Chapter 45

Since that day I have seen much coming and going.

We are now the old folks--Margaret and Nehemiah and Hope and I. Those
others, with their rugged strength, their simple ways, their undying
youth, are of the past. The young folks--they are a new kind of people.
It gives us comfort to think they will never have to sing in choirs or
'pound the rock' for board money; but I know it is the worse luck
for them. They are a fine lot of young men and women--comely and
well-mannered--but they will not be the pathfinders of the future. What
with balls and dinners and clubs and theatres, they find too great a
solace in the rear rank.

Nearly twenty years after that memorable Christmas, coming from Buffalo
to New York one summer morning, my thoughts went astray in the north
country. The familiar faces, the old scenes came trooping by and that
very day I saw the sun set in Hillsborough as I had often those late
years.

Mother was living in the old home, alone, with a daughter of Grandma
Bisnette. It was her wish to live and die under that roof. She cooked me
a fine supper, with her own hands, and a great anxiety to please me.

'Come Willie!' sai